


Party With Style(s)

by mixedwithintellect



Category: Don't Let Me Go - Harry Styles (Song), Kiwi - Harry Styles (Song), Medicine - Harry Styles (Song), One Direction (Band), Sweet Creature - Harry Styles (Song)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Based on a Tumblr Post, F/M, High School, House Party, Slow Dancing, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 19:58:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15825909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixedwithintellect/pseuds/mixedwithintellect
Summary: the one where they're dancing but all of a sudden it's a slow song and they're standing there awkwardly staring





	Party With Style(s)

Jeremy’s parents had left him for the weekend; they had some wine festival cruise or whatever, he wasn’t really sure. But it meant, of course, that he was throwing a massive party Friday night – that would inevitably carry over to Saturday night, and probably onward to Sunday afternoon. It was only to be expected from a boy like Jeremy, who had the ability to perfectly balance the chaotic nature of high school parties and ensuring the safety of everyone, especially the girls.

He was well-known around the group for being stocked on a variety of liquors, from traditional Jack Daniels to the more obscure cupcake-flavored vodkas. He even filled a crystal bowl in the hallway overflowing with condoms of all sizes. A rarity within mankind, Jeremy was a pretty phenomenal dude.

At least, that’s what you were screaming in his ear as you sloshed an arm over his shoulder. His glazed eyes looked back at yours happily, murmuring his thanks and clinking his Solo cup with yours. The neon lights colored his cheeks green, your face purple. The living room was Jeremy’s prime location at his parties, where drunk kids played board games and eventually started up Truth or Dare, Would You Rather, Never Have I Ever…any game that could be used to expose friends or potential lovers.

The kitchen was bar central, with Monique and Laura serving up as bartenders for the first night. They made _amazing_  margaritas and usually experimented with new types of flavors, asking random people throughout the night to test different shots and give feedback. Everyone knew they were the innovators of the group, massively vested in chemistry and too distracted by formulas to realize it was painfully obvious how cute they were together.

You winked at Laura as you slid between two freshman struggling to get down their shots, gratefully accepting the cup of water she slid over. She shook her head, ringlets bouncing as she blushed and glanced at Monique, who was yelling at Justin about how overrated Bud Light was.

Parties were the best time for lovers to glow, you felt. Something about the smoke and haze, beyond the obvious inhibition-lowering effects of alcohol and drugs, made people have less fear. An excuse to hide behind, just to experiment with who you could become.

You swayed your hips to the hypnotic thumping echoing down from the attic as you started your journey up the stairs. Kids of all genders were littered along the staircase, mouthing as each others’ clothing and faces, a stumbling orchestra of whispered sweet nothings and stifled moans. Everyone thought they were being so oblivious, that’s the only way they could get it on, you figured.

The attic was, as the kids say, ‘lit’. A Fifth Harmony song shook the floor, teenagers seeming to bounce up from the vibrations rather than jumping of their own accord. Filthy grinding was taking place on the outskirts of the dance floor; you were fairly certain you saw Jenny-from-algebra’s full underneath as Ekram slid a hand up her thigh.

You finished your water, feeling substantially more grounded than before, and joined a swarm of people you vaguely recognized on the dance floor. The swell of a collective ‘fuck it, let go’ was rare in high school; you felt your only salvation was at parties where everyone was too rum-happy to give a rat’s ass what anyone else was doing. It was the human experience upped to the nines, a love for love ruminating in the reckless, drunk passion of teenagers.

A hand rested on your shoulder as you neared the center of the dance floor, squeezing past thrusting hips and swinging hair. You turned, half-expecting it to be your friend Nadia (she had recently broken up  _again_  with Chad and had a tendency to forget her limits with tequila when she was stressed), but to your surprise – it was Harry Styles.

A quiet boy, Harry was known for being particularly witty around friends but charming to teachers, yet not keen on socializing much. He was a regular to parties, never been in the center of a crazy scene, except for that one time he was caught in Ron’s tree-house with a naked, panting Joanne, and was applauded by the assholes at school the next day. Harry wasn’t known for having a girlfriend, but it wasn’t rare to see some girl cuddled against his bare chest at pool parties. He just attracted attractive people, no words needed.

Needless to say, you were a bit more than surprised to see him looking directly in your eyes, his own tinged with red and glossed over.

“Yeh here alone?”

You couldn’t properly hear him, the bass had dropped and it was intense, but you could make out the general words from reading his lips. He had a freckle, too, you hadn’t noticed before, and you caught yourself staring at it as you nodded. Shifting your eyes to anywhere else that might seem more normal, you saw the drink in his hand and pointed at it, silently asking with raised eyebrows for a sip.

Harry was attractive, there was no doubt about it, and you held no hesitations about enjoying the night with him. Beat playing shot games with Monique for the fifth party in a row, at the very least. You didn’t only want variety, you practically  _deserved_  it. Especially in the dress you were wearing, you had only grown more confident with the way guys and girls had been checking you out all night long.

Harry was no different, he handed his drink over and as you tilted your head back to drink, he started moving rhythmically against your ass, immediately putting his hands on your hips. It was a bit of an awkward position, you only being half-turned and the massive collection of bodies thrashing in the empty spaces around you two. His drink was good, you decided, and you kept it in your hands as you turned fully to have your back against his front, allowing his hands to guide your hips.

“Saw yeh across the room,” he admitted, low in your ear. His fingertips splayed out more, basically covering the whole side of your thighs and then some, moving them in soft circles against the sliver of bare skin, as your fingers reached behind your shoulders to brush against his neck.

You had chills running up and down your spine, despite the sweat that clung to your pores. You wanted to impress him, you wanted the standoffish Harry Styles to become a wrecked mess on the dance floor, pupils blown and skinny jeans becoming more of a bother than a fashion choice. You wanted to  _own_  his little tight ass by the end of the night, the thoughts were racing in your mind as his fingers dug a bit into your flesh.

The song drew to a close, the last echo vibrating outwards endlessly. You prayed it would be replaced with something of a heavier beat, something for you to truly lose yourself in.

But fate had other ideas.

Jeremy was suddenly at the DJ booth, instead of Craig, and he tapped on the mic, clearing his throat.

“Hey, guys,” he began, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I wanted to play something a bit slow, if that’s okay? So, yeah, uh, pair up. Weed’s downstairs now if you don’t wanna, and I just ordered pizza. Drink water, too.”

You felt Harry laugh against you, and he brushed your tangled hair from sticking to your back, to over your shoulder.

“He’s been tryna get with that fit volleyball girl, probably thought this was a good move,” he chuckled, shaking his head when you turned to look at him.

A sax started crooning from the multitude of speakers around the room, eventually joined by Edwin McCain’s voice. Some of the teens had booed Jeremy, others had taken the opportunity to cool off downstairs, and others slowly migrated into couples. You and Harry were the only ones not moving.

“I’ll Be?” you shook your head, a bit dazed and overall pissed the mood had been ruined. You were going to blow his mind out, it was going to be difficult to reassess and reconnect after a bloody romantic song made everyone cry and feel single and alone. Except for Jeremy, you supposed, but honestly fuck him. ‘Pretty phenomenal dude’ your ass, he was being a cockblock.

“Yeah, guess so. Wanna dance?” He only seemed interested in intertwining his fingers against yours, not meeting your eyes, and seeming rather unbothered by the song choice.

Definitely not what you were expecting. You flashed an apologetic smile, shrugging.

“I’ve had three drinks spilled on me and I’m  _really_  sweaty. Just a heads up.”

Harry glanced up, chuckling.

“I’m no different, love.”

You wrapped your arms behind his neck, praying he wouldn’t think twice of how you were leaning on him more than a normal person would (mixed drinks did  _not_  help a sense of balance, especially when making eye contact with Harry Styles). His hands went around your waist. You two swayed there, a bit, not exactly slow-dancing in the sense of Jeremy and his new girl in the corner, who were on some ballroom level dance shit. Every so often one of your feet would move in a direction and the others would follow, but there was no sense of pattern to any of it.

Harry was right, he was  _very_  sweaty. Even touching his neck was a bit awkward, the nape of his neck drenched in sweat that clung deeply to his baby hairs. Up close, his forehead was shiny and had a few pimples, his cheeks rosy and his chin sparingly dotted with what must’ve been an attempt at a beard.

His eyes were scanning your face as well, and you wondered how ruined your makeup had gotten throughout the night. He didn’t seem to mind though, a ghost of a smile playing with the corners of his lips. You were drawn back to the freckle, only half-hearing the noises the crowd made when Jeremy finally kissed his girl.

“Can I have yeh number?”

You blinked, not realizing the song had ended and the Black Eyed Peas were being synced up to an approving crowd. More bodies were added around you and Harry, the noise picking up astronomically. The smell of weed stung your nostrils.

He was standing completely still, having led you both to the edges of the dance floor during the slow dance, maintaining unwavering eye contact as he looked, expectant. The smile was gone from his face, but you had a sneaking suspicion that it was more due to nerves than an unhappiness at your silence. It was clear that you were still reacting slowly to everything around you.

“Yeah, totally,” you had managed to snap out of the daze “I’ll just get my ph-”

Suddenly, someone was tapping madly on your shoulder, and Harry’s face looked considerably more pissed. You turned to see Monique, who was looking at Harry equally in shock before shaking her head at you.

“Honey, Nadia is  _out_  in the bathroom right now and she needs someone to take her home. I ordered a cab but I don’t want her leaving alone. You free to go?”

It was the typical protocol, neither one of you strangers to Nadia’s heavier party nights. You knew it would end with the two of you cuddling in her bed, you staying up to make sure she wasn’t going to vomit in her sleep, before she made Apology Pancakes in the morning.

Monique, as she was speaking, was simultaneously pulling at your arm, knowing your answer already and needing you to move quickly. Harry released his hold from your waist, his fingers reaching up to tug at his lower lip as he watched you, half-dazed, stumble away.

“Sorry, Harry, gotta go. I’ll talk to you sometime,” you waved at him, before turning your head to the front, needing your attention on remaining upright and moving forward. You briefly forgot you were supposed to give him your number, or at least some way of contacting you. Your attention was purely on Nadia at the moment, concern flooding out the hormonal neediness that had itched your fingertips all night long.

Harry remained there, on the skirts of the dance floor, fingers pulling at his lip, as you were pulled downstairs by Monique.

“What was  _that_  about?” Monique whisper-yelled at you, as the two of you dashed around the beer pong competition in the hallway. She had a big smile on her face, eyebrows waggling in congratulation, and you could feel the grin on your face only getting wider.

“No clue,” you giggled, stepping into the bathroom. “But I’m definitely coming back here tomorrow night.”


End file.
